


tear into your soul

by dialecstatic



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Groping, Kissing, M/M, and the like, blowjob, handjob, or do they, smut mostly suggestive, they ~hate each other~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dialecstatic/pseuds/dialecstatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>shibata and naito play a little game of hide & seek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tear into your soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marya/gifts).



> written mostly for my dearest sinmate marya, who really, reaalllyyyy shouldn't enable me.  
> this took me way longer to write than i am willing to admit, also it's my first time trying my hand at anything even remotely smutty, so i apologize in advance, it will probably be very underwhelming.
> 
> title from "desire" by meg myers  
> opening lyrics from "strange love" by halsey

 

 

 

> everybody wants to know
> 
> how it felt to hear you scream
> 
> they know you walk like you’re a god
> 
> they can’t believe i made you weak
> 
>  

Katsuyori Shibata doesn’t like Tetsuya Naito.

 

Well, “doesn’t like” is probably what you’d say if you were trying to expose the situation in a rational manner. The truth is, Shibata hates Naito’s guts with all he has, and there’s nothing quite rational about that. Naito’s gotten under his skin ever since he came back to Japan with his rotten attitude and his goddamn hat, and Shibata’s been absolutely hellbent on making the little fucker bite the dust. His words.

 

Everybody knows that Naito doesn’t necessarily hate Shibata. He doesn’t necessarily hate anyone. Hate demands too much energy. He’s perfectly happy just rattling their bones until they break.

 

Everyone is also very aware that Shibata would love nothing more than to break him, and they know Naito: that would almost be enough to make him sweat a little bit. But it isn’t, of course it isn’t. Besides, it’s a well-known fact that Naito thinks he’d much rather be the one who makes Shibata sweat.

 

The first time it happens, Naito shows up at Shibata’s apartment without so much as a warning. When Shibata opens the door, he stares Naito up and down and then growls, a deep noise that resonates in his throat and in Naito’s brain.

 

Naito invites himself in, and when the door slams behind him, he smiles. Shibata notices, and hates that he’s merely a player in Naito’s game.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

Naito doesn’t respond.

 

“And what the hell are you smiling about?”

 

Again, Shibata doesn’t get an answer. Instead, he’s backed up against the door, Naito pressing himself to him ever so slightly, like he’s trying to evaluate the situation. Shibata can feel Naito breathing practically into his mouth, and he hates the tingles that it sends down his spine. Naito holds him there for a moment, his hands on either side of Shibata’s face, and then closes the gap between them.

 

It’s rough and messy and Shibata’s pretty sure shock is the only thing keeping him from shoving Naito away, but after it wears off he finds himself grabbing at Naito’s hair and shirt, pulling him closer until they’re almost out of oxygen.

 

When Naito pulls away abruptly, Shibata finds himself instinctively reaching for the front of his shirt to hold him there.

 

Fuck.

 

Naito licks his lips, smiles, and walks out without a word.

 

***

 

The second time time it happens, Shibata’s coming back from the gym with a headache. He throws all his stuff on the dingy hotel room floor and starts rummaging through his suitcase for some medicine, even though he’s almost sure he ran out of it a few weeks back. Right around the time of the incident.

 

He hasn’t seen Naito outside of the ring since, but everything about that brief encounter has been haunting him. Whenever he’s up against Naito, the bastard teases him from across the ring, leaning on the turnbuckle and biting his bottom lip, refusing to be tagged in until Shibata’s out, and making it perfectly clear to Shibata that he enjoys leading this little dance. No one can know what happened, Shibata thinks, and he hates that Naito has that secret hanging over his head.

 

Thinking about that just makes his headache worse, so he angrily closes the suitcase and storms into the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower will soothe his aching mind and body. He’s about to turn on the water when there’s a knock on the door.

 

Shibata’s ready to murder whoever might be behind it, and the urge rises even higher when he opens and there is Naito, smug as ever.

 

“Hey stranger.” Naito says, and Shibata wonders how long he could keep a dead body in a hotel room without raising suspicions.

 

Once again, Naito brushes past him, not even waiting for Shibata to reply. He plops down on the bed and props himself up on his elbows, eyeing the room with that disinterested look he’s mastered recently.

 

When his eyes land on Shibata, however, there’s a flash of lust that sends shockwaves through Shibata’s body, and he desperately tries to shake the feeling off as he takes the two steps to the bed to stare down Naito. There’s a few seconds when neither of them says anything, Shibata trying to burn a hole through Naito’s chest, and Naito looking up at him and licking his lips.

It all happens in a blur. Naito reaches up and grabs Shibata’s shirt, pulling him down and kissing him hard enough that Shibata loses all balance and they end up in a heap of limbs on the bed.

 

Moments later he’s on his back, and Naito’s straddling his hips, a triumphant grin on his face. Naito grinds his hips down and Shibata hates the way he instinctively grinds up. Naito lets out the quietest moan, his expression shifting for just a second from smugness to unabashed desire. He licks his lips again and gets up, feigns leaving. Shibata’s body reacts in a heartbeat, his hand jerking to grab Naito’s arm and keep him there. Naito looks at him and Shibata hates the fact that he knows he’s won. He hates it, but he still lets Naito move to the bed again, and when he motions for Shibata to sit up against the headboard, Shibata complies without a word or even a whimper.

 

When Naito starts tugging at his shorts, Shibata feels a dull heat starting to build up in the pit of his stomach. He slightly raises his hips so Naito can pull the garment all the way down, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Shibata swallows hard when Naito lowers his head dangerously close to his groin, looking up at him with that expression that usually sends Shibata into an unsightly rage. This time, though, all he feels is a guilty desire for the man kneeling between his legs, making him feel so powerless. Shibata hates this.

 

He hates the way the tip of Naito’s tongue sets fire to his skin, hates the feeling of Naito’s rugged hands on his thighs. He hates how easily Naito gets under his skin, how he unravels every thread of defence Shibata has carefully woven with just a touch of his lips.

 

Yeah, he hates this.

 

But when Naito moans around his cock and sends vibrations through his entire body, Shibata can’t help the sound that comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t spell hate.

 

Shibata’s still coming to his senses when Naito straightens up, and looks him right in the eye as he wipes the corner of his mouth and smiles. He’s too knocked out of his mind to make any move towards Naito before he slips out the door and silently closes it behind him.

 

***

 

Shibata spends the next week running in circles. He doesn’t talk to anyone about what happened, not even Goto, especially not Goto. The thought of what his friend would say fills him with the deepest kind of shame. He doesn’t bring it up with Kota, even though he knows how Kota’s always felt about Naito. He especially doesn’t talk to Tanahashi about it, because he knows all he’ll get is a disdainful look. All Shibata can do is replay the events in his mind, feel his heart speed up as he recalls the feeling of Naito’s mouth on him, and bite his lips only to taste Naito on them.

 

He doesn’t look for Naito backstage at events, doesn’t want to think about what he might do if he finds him. He knows now that Naito will most likely come to him, to tease him again and jump him and leave him lying there. He’s not looking forward to it.

 

He’s not.

 

He’s alone in the locker room after a match, still in his gear, when he hears the door creak open. He doesn’t even bother turning around, just tries to steel himself before he feels a familiar heat closing in on him. He can feel Naito literally breathing down his neck, knows that if he turns to face him, he’ll find that smug, insufferable smile that has been haunting him. So he doesn’t turn around. He just waits for Naito to speak up, knows it’s bound to come sooner or later, since the little shit can’t keep his mouth shut. When the words don’t come, and all Shibata can feel is Naito’s hot breath on his shoulder, he clenches his fists and his whole body tenses up. Naito obviously notices, because he huffs and lets out a quiet laugh, before slowly sliding his hands on Shibata’s waist and all the way to his abs. Shibata can’t help but hold his breath the whole time, and when Naito presses his hands to his stomach, he exhales, loudly, something he wouldn’t call a moan but definitely is one.

 

“Ah.” Don’t talk. “Missed me?” Naito speaks up anyway, and Shibata can hear the smile in his voice and it makes him want to elbow Naito in the gut. But he doesn’t. He just lets Naito get closer, and if he presses back a little against Naito’s chest, he chalks it up to instinct.

 

It’s also instinct if he leans his head back a bit when Naito’s hands slide down his stomach and stop right when his fingertips touch the hem of Shibata’s trunks.

 

“What a good boy you are. Very disciplined.” Naito’s practically whispering in his ear now, and it’s way hotter than it has any right to be. Shibata feels a shockwave course through his body when Naito’s tongue traces a line down his neck. He shivers a little when Naito starts mouthing at the patch between his neck and his shoulder, sucking at the tender skin there, definitely trying to leave a mark. Shibata knows he’s going to have to put some tape on that, because he can’t be bothered to explain. Doesn’t want to.

 

He also wishes he’ll never have to explain the sound that leaves his mouth when Naito slips his fingers past the hem of his trunks, and he’s barely grazing his skin but the sensation is so intense that Shibata feels as though he might die from the heat.

 

He’s breathing hard now, the occasional high-pitched moan forming in his throat and filling his entire being with shame. Naito takes great pleasure in every single one of them, teasing him mercilessly, pressing up against his back, his fingers treading on very private territory. Shibata wants to free himself, to shove Naito on the ground and teach him a lesson, but he feels like his legs could fail him at any moment, so he just stays in place, every inch of his body aching with need. He could do the smart thing and just ask, maybe even order Naito around, because he knows the brat would love that, but he feels like if he tries to speak it’ll be as incoherent as he feels. So he desperately tries to communicate what he wants to Naito, throwing his head back again and twisting his neck to mouth at Naito’s, not even kissing it, because he’s past the point of caring or trying right now. Naito seems to get the hint, because he picks up the pace and his hands are rugged and rough and Shibata feels like he’s about to fucking die. He hopes nobody walks past, or even worse, into the room, because his breathing speeds up and his knees get weak and if anybody ever finds out about this he’ll just have to go live in the mountains.

 

Naito bites into his shoulder as his hands start losing their coordination, and Shibata smiles a little as he realizes that it’s the first time Naito is losing his composure around him. A few seconds later, he’s coming all over Naito’s hands and whimpering when Naito bites so hard it hurts, but the wave of bliss that washes over him cancels it out. His body feels numb and his breathing evens out a little, but he almost falls over when Naito backs away. Shibata has to brace himself on the wall as he watches Naito, who casually walks over to the sink to wash his hands. When he’s done, he leans on the wall opposite Shibata and studies him quietly, taking in how disheveled Shibata is, and then he smiles that horrible, horrible smile, but Shibata doesn’t have the strength to even try to slap it off his face. So he just hobbles to the shower, and tries not to flinch when Naito closes the door behind him without saying a word

 

***

 

For weeks after, that, Shibata looks for Naito. He looks for him in the corridors of the arenas where they perform, in the hotel lobby, chases him down tiny, crooked street, follows his shadow all the way to the ring. But Naito doesn’t seem to be looking for him. Shibata sees him sometimes, talking on the phone in Spanish, biting his lip as he studies the curves of Ibushi’s body when he thinks no one can see him (or he knows everybody can), or stretching behind the curtain. Shibata never says anything when he finds him. Just stares at him from afar, trying to decide on the best course of action, and back away at the last second.

 

Goto has been asking him why he tapes his shoulder when he knows for a fact he’s not injured, and Shibata loses himself in ways to not tell him it’s because Naito bit him so hard he still has a mark there, weeks after it happened. He runs his fingers over it sometimes and feels a dull burn, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Not physically, at least.

 

The truth is, Shibata wants to find Naito and finally make him finish what he started. He wants Naito to finally own up to his actions and give him everything he’s been holding back, every piece of his body and soul. He wants to tear Naito to pieces the same way Naito’s been doing it to him, to render him helpless and watch him squirm. He wants Naito. Plain and simple. It had taken a long time for him to admit that.

 

He finally gets his hands on Naito after a show, when everyone else is trying to get as much sleep as possible before going back on the road. He runs to catch the same elevator and corners him there.

 

“Hey, asshole.” Naito raises an eyebrow. “Have you been avoiding me or something?!”

 

“Hey.” is the only thing Naito says in return.

 

“Seriously? How long did you think you could play me like that? Uh? Coming and going as you please, without a word of explanation?” Shibata growls. He realizes he’s losing his cool way faster than he would’ve hoped, that he’s letting Naito get the best of him again, and it gets even worse when the elevator doors open and Naito slips out nonchalantly. Shibata’s so stunned he barely makes it into the hallway before the doors close, and he rapidly catches up to Naito and pins him to the wall.

 

“Don’t you dare try to walk away again.”

 

Naito smiles.

 

“I know you’ll always come chasing me.” He hooks two fingers in the waistband of Shibata’s jeans. “Won’t you?”

 

Shibata can’t believe what he’s hearing.

 

“Me? Chasing you?” Fuck. He’s getting riled up again. “You’re the one who’s been coming to me, you fuckhead. Always taunting me…” Always haunting me, is what Shibata wants to say. But he doesn’t. Won’t give Naito the satisfaction of hearing those words. “So own up to it, Naito.”

 

He’s barely finished speaking when Naito fists his other hand in his shirt and pulls hard, and they’re kissing in the hallway, and it’s messy and hungry and everything Shibata still refuses to admit he wanted.

 

Shibata almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the elevator doors open, pushing himself away from Naito, who just idly stands there and waits. Whoever it was is going the other way, and Shibata’s not even sure it’s one of their people, but he still grabs Naito by the collar of his shirt and makes it understood that he’d very much like to move to a more private place.

 

They end up in Naito’s room, because it was his floor after all, and as soon as Shibata hears the click of the lock, he’s all over Naito again.

 

“Are you finally going to explain to me this shitty little game you’ve been playing?”

 

Naito huffs, and he turns to Shibata, all smiles as usual.

 

“It takes two to play that game, doesn’t it?” He takes a step forward. “You’ve been very… dedicated to it.” Another step, and they’re as close as they can get now. “Haven’t you?”

 

Shibata knows he’s right. That since their first private encounter, he’s been craving Naito more than he’ll ever admit. That there’s something inside of him, call it instinct, call it pure lust, that keeps pulling him back towards Naito. It’s the reason he keeps letting Naito in, always, even though he hasn’t hated someone so much in a long time. He doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t try to understand it. In that moment, he doesn’t even want to understand it. He’s always treaded so carefully around his own feelings, only letting very few people in. No one had ever broken through his defenses like that, and it makes him want to tear into Naito in return. To wipe that smug smile right off his face, to discover what’s really behind it, to delve into the deepest parts of his soul, where maybe he’ll find an answer to all the questions he’s been turning over in his head for the past weeks.

 

But he knows that this is not the time for words. It is, however, the time to grab Naito by the collar of his shirt and devour him. They kiss, and for the first time, Shibata’s in control. He dictates the pace, bites Naito’s bottom lip, pulls at his hair, and Naito makes the most delightful noises Shibata’s ever heard.

 

He pulls away, only to start the assault on Naito’s throat, making sure to leave a many marks as possible in his wake. It’s rough and messy but Shibata doesn’t care. The only thing that matters right now is showing Naito that he can be in control, that’s he’s learned the rules and he’s never afraid to bend them a little. Naito’s panting now, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth like it often does when he’s taking a beating, and Shibata knows he should probably be a little nervous about that, but in that moment all he wants is to get Naito out of his clothes, and right underneath him.

 

They barely make it to the bed, tripping over each other’s feet because they’re not looking at anything else but each other. Shibata knows if he loses his focus, even for just an instant, Naito will probably take advantage of it, and that’s the last thing he wants. There’s no way he’s letting Naito win that round. They stumble backwards with so much force that they bump off the mattress a little, and Shibata pins Naito down, a knee between his legs and his hands holding Naito’s wrists.

 

“Hey,” Naito breathes. “Hey, calm down.”

 

“Shut the fuck up and take off your clothes.” is what Shibata growls in return.

 

Naito complies, throws his shirt and then his pants somewhere on the floor, and he wraps his legs around Shibata’s waist. Shibata grunts when Naito grinds up, demanding more. Shibata knows he shouldn't give it to him. Knows he should keep him there, watch him squirm, like Naito has done to him so many times. But he doesn’t. Can’t. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and his mind is getting more and more hazy as Naito teases him, runs his hands all over his back underneath his shirt. His fingernails are short but they sting all the same, and Shibata thinks about the marks that will be there the next day. Maybe those, he’ll wear with pride.

 

***

 

He doesn’t see Naito for months after that. All he knows is that he’s been hanging around Ibushi a lot, probably playing his little game with him too. Shibata tried to confront Ibushi about it, to warn him, but he’d been received with a cold stare and even colder words. Whatever’s happening between these two is apparently none of his business, even though Ibushi’s his friend and Naito is…

 

Well. He doesn’t really know what Naito is, and maybe it’s better this way. Like this, he never has to justify himself for what happened, even though he never told anyone so he doesn’t have any reasons to even try to justify himself. But he knows he doesn’t want to. Believes he shouldn’t have to. What happened between them was unlike anything Shibata ever experienced, and if he never gets to experience it again, then so be it. Let them go their separate ways. And if he misses Naito sometimes, when it’s the middle of the night and he’s alone in a hotel room when Goto’s getting his “warrior’s rest” as he calls it, well that’s only for him to know.

 

 


End file.
